


Tricks & Treats

by batsaboutbats, meaninglessblah



Series: Let's Play A Love Game [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Collars, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Hand Jobs, M/M, Red Riding Hood Elements, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 09:57:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21251528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batsaboutbats/pseuds/batsaboutbats, https://archiveofourown.org/users/meaninglessblah/pseuds/meaninglessblah
Summary: Halloween Spinoff fic forLet's Play A Love Game. Happens outside the investigation in the Main Fic, where Tim and Jason still work at the Daily O. Lots of spooky goodies abound!





	Tricks & Treats

“What are you supposed to be?” 

The voice hums against the shell of Tim’s ear, accompanied by a hand that curves over his hip, spinning him sharply where his fingers part with the martini glass he’s just set on the table. He follows its movement with a half-surprised huff, finding his feet after a dizzying minute as Jason steadies him with both palms flush to his waist. His red cape swirls around him, wrapping around his knees as he lifts his tray out of the path of a bustling server. 

Jason’s grinning, half-lidded eyes roaming over the tight corset of lace down his chest. Tim hums in disapproval and tucks his tray under his arm, freeing himself of the twisted cape. “Thought it was obvious,” he replies, meeting Jason’s amused gaze with a cocky smirk. 

“Don’t know about that,” Jason says, hands sliding down to ruffle the petticoat beneath his abysmally short skirt. Tim bats his hand away with a scowl, and Jason laughs, bending to suck a lingering kiss into his throat, before his hand tugs at the bow holding the cape around Tim’s throat. “What’s this then?” 

“I’m Little Red Riding Hood,” Tim answers, cocking a hip to show off the skin of his thigh above the high stockings. As expected, Jason’s gaze snaps down to drink it in, before rising back to his lips. 

“Little Red, huh?” He leans down to kiss Tim, hands sliding up the back of his neck as Tim moans. At the table next to them, a few of Tim’s customers hoot at the display. Jason’s fingers tangle in the hood, sliding it up over Tim’s crown as he pulls back to suck in a sharp breath of air. 

“I’m working,” he reminds Jason, who snorts and tugs the hood down over his eyes. Tim growls and bats at his hand again; it sails through the air, and Tim turns his focus to shoving back the hood so he can see. “What are you supposed to be, anyway?” 

“Not sure yet,” Jason replies mischievously, stepping back so Tim can lead the way to the bar. “Yolanda hasn’t given me my marching orders. But it’s gotta be something sexy, right? Sexy vampire, sexy ghost, sexy mummy.” 

“Sexy zombie,” Tim returns, deadpan. 

“That’s the spirit of Halloween,” Jason sighs fondly. 

Tim rolls his eyes. “How is that at all scary? I thought Halloween was supposed to be spooky.” 

Jason’s grin is wolfish. “What’s more spooky than a resurrected zombie in assless chaps?” 

“Did someone say assless chaps?” 

Tim straightens from his lean against the counter, throwing Yolanda a conspiratorial smile. She props a long, lithe arm up on the bar, red nails ticking as she drums them on the wood. Tim can see a decorative bloodshot eyeball perched on her index nail, gleaming in the light of some nearby candles. 

“Landa, just the woman I was looking for,” Jason purrs, ever the charmer, and Yolanda arches a manicured brow. 

“I expected you down in wardrobe ten minutes ago,” Yolanda chastises, and Jason rolls his massive shoulders in a shrug, refusing to cow beneath that piercing gaze. “What’s the hold up, Jackie?” 

Tim chuckles at the old name, watches Jason’s brow pinch in simpering remorse. “Ah, you know me, Landa. Heads to roll, names to take - a whole city in need of protection.” 

“Mmm,” she murmurs, unconvinced. “And what about my evening? You owe me a dance, Jackie; hasn’t been the same since you gave up Sundays.” 

“Tonight’s my busiest night,” Jason protests, and Tim barks a laugh. He knows for a fact that between Steph, Damian and Cass, Gotham’s vigilantes have got crime’s busiest night under lock and key. Jason shoots him a glare, winding an arm around Tim’s waist. “Besides, I think Tommy’s got the Halloween market cornered.” 

Yolanda’s head swivels to the stages, Tim a half-second behind, to drink in the man with his legs currently wrapped around the pole. It’s been painted to resemble wood, a bundle of bale props stacked around its base to imitate a pyre. Tommy’s arched back towards the stage floor, chest glistening in the spotlights where his shirt cuts low. His legs are broad and bare but for the transparents stockings, and the bikini cut of his black mock-corset leotard rides high on his hips. Two orange-and-red hand fans flare from the ruffles of his long sleeves as he shimmies them down the curve of his ribs in an artful flutter, tilting back the brim of his broad witch's hat to wink at an enthusiastic patron. 

Tim watches as he adjusts into a hip hold tuck, pointing his wickedly high heels towards the ceiling to take the cash between his brilliant teeth. Tommy looks coy and mischievous, his movements sharp and fierce as he climbs the pole to a bass-boosted Gaga hit from his personal playlist. 

“Could always use a familiar,” Yolanda retorts coolly, flashing Jason a broad smile. 

Jason shakes his head. “Nope. I don’t do ears or tails. Watching the servers walk around with those plugs every Monday is bad enough.” 

Tim nudges his hip against Jason’s thigh, amusement curling in his chest when Jason’s distracted by those ruffles again. Like he wants to bend Tim over the bar and shove his skirt up over the curve of his ass. Jason’s hand flexes against Tim’s side, and he stifles a grin. “They’re not all that bad, honestly,” he confesses, watching the bob of Jason’s throat when he swallows that image down. “And I could use a wolf to compliment my outfit.” 

“You think so, Little Red?” Jason smirks, and Tim’s stomach coils at the nickname. 

“It’ll be fun,” Tim purrs, and lifts his tray from the counter, offering Jason a doe-eyed smile as he meanders in the direction of his tables. “We can make a game of it. Catch me if you can, hmm?” 

Jason grins, his smile all teeth and mischief as he promises, “I’m gonna eat you right up, baby.” 

* * *

The ears don’t do much for him, honestly, but the smokey eye really accents the green of his irises, and Yolanda’s a magician with a brush. He looks powerful, looks predatory, beneath the gleam of the vanity lights as he adjusts the headband and admires the glint of the black glitter sprinkled over his collarbones. 

Jason hums approvingly, turning before the mirror to inspect the cut of his dark jeans. There’s a few artistic strips of plaid flannel hanging from the belt loops; Yolanda had spouted something about lumberjacks and werewolves as she’d disappeared into wardrobe. It adds to the aesthetic, Jason supposes, twisting his hips to inspect the fur tail dangling over his ass. 

He’d very firmly turned down the plug alternative, but he hadn’t managed to dissuade Yolanda of the tail altogether. She evidently had a vision she was trying to achieve, with the tightly laced steel-capped boots and leather suspenders that frame his nipple piercings. She’d even insisted he keep his thigh holsters on, though Jason had pilfered away his guns before he’d even arrived at the Daily O. 

“Here,” Yolanda announces upon her return, brandishing what looks to be a hatchet. Jason takes it with bemusement, tracing a thumb over the blunt head. 

“And this is?” 

“You’re a woodcutter,” she declares triumphantly, patting his left holster encouragingly. 

Jason arches a brow, but hooks the hatchet into the straps. “I thought I was a wolf.” 

“You’re both. Red Riding Hood has both a wolf and a woodcutter in the story; you’re both - a werewolf, or whatever you want to call it. Predator and saviour,” she adds with a wink. 

“Don’t you think that’s a bit deep for a Halloween outfit?” Jason prompts, and earns a reprimanding scowl. 

“I’ll give you a bonnet and a walking cane if you’re not careful,” Yolanda growls. Jason bends to peck her on the cheek, beaming as she softens. She laughs at his pandering, and adds with a warning note, “I’m not done yet.” 

Jason’s brow pinches. “Seriously?” 

Yolanda hefts the sturdy leather collar with a wink. “You turned down the proper tail. Besides, this’ll be fun. Your Little Red can even lead you around now,” she adds, twirling the end of the attached leash. 

“Really going all in, huh,” Jason mutters, but buckles it securely over his windpipe. It’s not tight, but it hangs around his neck with a ever-present weight that shifts when he moves. Doesn’t help that the leash trails down his chest in sweeping swathes that brush against his piercings with every other step. 

“Oh, Little Red’s gonna like this,” Yolanda purrs approvingly, and then ushers him up the stairs without further elaboration. 

* * *

It’s exhilarating, hunting Tim down through the crowds of the club. Like their old games of tag across Gotham’s rooftops, only without the bloodshed. The unspoken rule is neither can neglect their duties while they play, and with each passing tap and touch, the heat between them grows. 

Jason’s first score of the night is to snag the band of Tim’s stocking and snap it loudly, and in return Tim unzips his fly. Charla raises a brow high at them as they literally power-walk throughout the showfloor, weaving around tables trying to simultaneously avoid and catch one another. 

The second unspoken rule is that they can’t fix any of their clothing.

Jason sets his teeth in a grimacing grin for a customer at the bar when Tim sidles up next to him and manages to wheedle his fingers into his open fly, teasing one finger between the buttons of his boxer briefs and twirling around the tip of his stiffening cock. He has to stand there, hips canted beneath the bar counter to hide his arousal until it softens enough to not be obvious, and glares after the crimson-caped crusader as he vanishes into the crowd with his full tray of drinks. 

Later, Jason palms his pert ass beneath the cape as Tim bends to retrieve an empty glass. He pushes aside the flimsy lingerie covering it and presses his thumb between Tim’s cheeks, brushing the small pucker in a threatening promise. The noise Tim chokes out is wet enough to make Jason want to drink it. But he forces himself to look innocent, nonchalant, his slowly stroking thumb obscured by the bulk of his carefully angled thigh as Tim’s customers coo over how cute they look together in their costumes. They’re too drunk it seems, to notice the way Tim trembles bodily, or how Jason’s hand is hovering beneath the cape lewdly. 

Finally, the game comes to an end when Jason strays too close to the staff exit and Tim slams into him, pinning him back against the plaster and twisting his empty tray to shield them from prying eyes. Jason huffs, hips unable to stop from jumping into the hand Tim has gripped there, his clever fingers finding the line of his cock without a hitch. 

Jason cants forward when Tim gives him a measured stroke, hands jumping to the smaller man’s jaw, pouring the groan building in his throat between Tim’s lips. Tim melts against him, tongue meeting his in a tangled twist. He drops the tray with a clatter to tug Jason’s head down closer, sliding two fingers beneath the stiff leather of his collar. Tim doesn’t falter in his steady torture, and Jason feels the edge coming up fast, unable to help thrusting into Tim’s tight grip. He could let him, he thinks, but there are better ways to end their night. 

Jason breaks off with a strangled gasp, growling, “Rooftop?” into Tim’s throat. He bites into the curve of his shoulder lightly, teeth scraping when he pulls off. 

Tim whines a garbled affirmation, hand releasing him to wrap tight around his leash as he makes a speedy exit towards the fire escape. Jason’s right on his heels the whole way up the stairs, snagging his waist as soon as they breach into the evening air. 

It’s _ cold, _ Fall beckoning in a front that has Jason’s hot skin rising into gooseflesh immediately. He yanks Tim closer, slides his palm up under those teasing ruffles and seizes an unabashed handful of Tim’s ass. 

Tim groans against him, yanking him down by the leash to seal his lips. “Been wanting to do this,” Jason pants against him when he pulls back to suck a hickey above the line of Jason’s collar, “all damn night, Little Red.” 

Jason closes the distance between them and the brick wall, pushing Tim down with a guiding hand at the base of his throat, and Tim slides to his knees without a whisper of complaint. His eyes stay fixed on Jason, even as he settles on his knees, empty hands curled atop his thighs. The cloak drapes around him, dosing his form in red. It makes the moonlight gleam on the skin that's visible, makes his blue eyes all the more prominent. 

His lips quirk the longer Jason stands there drinking him in, until Tim whispers, “What’s the matter? Am I supposed to be afraid of the Big Bad Hood?” 

“Oh, you’re gonna get it, Little Red,” Jason breathes, and crooks a finger under Tim’s chin. Tim tilts his head back pliantly, unblinking as Jason strokes a thumb over his lips to feel the plush flesh roll. “What a sweet voice you have.” 

“The better to greet you with,” Tim replies in a gravelly timbre that betrays his arousal. He looks captive beneath Jason’s hand, enthralled by the sight Jason makes, framed by the stars. 

The words make Jason’s lips twitch in a smile, familiar with this lullaby. “What beautiful eyes you have, Little Red.” 

“All the better to see you with, Jay,” Tim professes, and Jason moans at the reverence in his tone. 

“What a gorgeous mouth you have, baby,” Jason purrs, and a flush lights up Tim’s cheeks. 

He doesn’t flinch beneath the attention though, whispering back, “All the better to devour you with.” 

Jason groans at the intensity of his gaze, reaching down to adjust himself. “You want to devour me, Little Red?” 

“Please?” Tim breathes, hands curling tight atop his thighs, brushing through the ruffles of his skirt. 

“Christ,” Jason hisses, fingers going to his fly to tug his pants down to his thighs. They catch on his holsters, but it’s enough to slide a thumb beneath the waistband of his briefs, to free himself with a shuddering sigh. “Whatever you want, Timmers. Anything you want.” 

“Want you, Jay,” Tim replies evenly, gaze dropping briefly to his stiff cock before it returns to hold his stare, dark and keen. “Want all of you.” 

Jason rests a palm against the brick behind Tim, leaning over with a hand curled around the base of his length. Tim’s gaze falls again, his breath warm where it caresses Jason, before he leans forwards to place a kittenish lick on his head. 

“You’re a tease, baby,” Jason grits out around a smile, widening his stance until he’s corralling Tim in with his calves. “What’re you waiting for?” 

Those depthless eyes fix on him, the hood of his red cloak dipping over his bangs as Tim tilts forward to brush his lips up the side of Jason’s length, snaring him with that stare. Jason’s mouth falls open, his words lost as Tim caresses his cock with soft kisses. 

“Waiting for you, Jay,” Tim purrs. “Want you to make me feel it.” 

It’s earnest and coy, and everything Jason ever wanted, falling from those gorgeous pink lips. 

Jason lifts his hand from the mortar, nails catching as he lowers to wrap both hands in Tim’s hood, fists gripping the red material tight. He pauses to brush his thumbs over Tim’s cheekbones, watching him lick those plush lips once, thoroughly, before he opens wide. 

The sight of him, on his knees, staring up at Jason with those dark blues orbs glistening beneath the peak of the hood, makes him shiver. 

“Shit, baby,” he whispers, entranced, and guides Tim forward with the hands he has wrapped in his cloak. Tim’s eyes flutter closed as he takes Jason into his mouth, tongue worrying the underside and making Jason pause in his slide just to savour the sensation. 

Tim’s lips close around him, sucking the tip gently, soft and careful in his ministrations. When he hollows his cheeks, Jason can’t stifle another breathless whine. Tim’s eyes open again, fixing on Jason with a bright intensity that’s challenging in its surety. 

Jason’s exhale rattles up through his throat, and then he’s thrusting forwards, pulling Tim down to meet him as he glides into that velvet heat. A groan rings past his lips when Tim’s jaw slackens, and Jason can’t tear his eyes away from the sight of Tim, so perfect, so pliant, beneath him. 

“Look so perfect down there, Tim,” Jason forces out, rocking on his heels to hear the wet sounds Tim’s lips make in the quiet gloom. It’s obscene, how he can take Jason apart so easily. 

Tim hums an affirmation, eyes slipping shut as he adjusts the angle of his head within the shadow of the hood, and when Jason thrusts forward next, his cock presses past that ring of muscle, into Tim’s throat. Jason gives a choked cry at the sensation, pausing there, shuddering at the heat, the tightness, the _ perfection _ that is Tim. 

“God, Red, you take me like a fuckin’ dream,” Jason hisses, rocking into his throat before he pulls back again. Tim moans gratefully, chasing him down until Jason has to yank the hood tight again, feel it strain against the back of Tim’s head as he holds him captive on his cock, feels him swallow thickly around him. 

Jason settles back on his heels, listening for the sound of Tim’s breathless, slick gasp, before he sets up a punishing rhythm, fucking into Tim’s throat as he arches to take him deep in one smooth slide. He's already wound tight, stomach roiling with heat, so it only takes the barest caress of Tim's tongue, the vise of his swallow around Jason's length, to topple him. 

He clenches fists around the material of the hood, yanking Tim down tight onto him, holding him there as he comes apart. Jason tips his head back and howls, nice and loud so Tim can hear what he does to him. 

His knees buckle when Tim pulls off him with a desperate inhalation, Jason’s palms scraping the brick as he fumbles to brace himself and looks down. Tim’s cheeks are flushed, lips slick and red as he catches his breath and glances up at Jason. 

Tim’s fingers hook into his belt loops, one hand securing the dangling leash to drag Jason down to meet him in a high kneel. Tim seizes his lips, gorgeous and perfect as Jason drinks him down, tasting himself on Tim’s tongue, in his mouth. 

“Happy Halloween, baby,” Tim whispers into the shell of his ear, voice husky and rough. 

Jason moans, seizing his lips as he takes him down to the concrete and kisses every spare inch of him beneath the moonlight. 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween, y'all!! 
> 
> [Batsaboutbats](https://linktr.ee/batsaboutbats).   
[Meaninglessblah](https://linktr.ee/meaninglessblah).


End file.
